MY Father: From the Last to the First

Father's day used to mean nothing to me. I had the most amazing mother and that was all I needed.

My parents divorced when I was six years old. The only father I knew was the drunk who left me sitting on the front porch waiting to be picked up every other weekend.

I used to get angry with my mom as she would never bad mouth my father, but I was most angered by the fact that she wouldn't let me. Time passed and I grew up. Life went on and it would be five and six years in between phone calls, followed by an uncomfortable visit.


Somewhere along the line, he found religion and decided he needed to make an appearance. So when I was 16-years-old, he started calling and sharing Jesus with me. To put it mildly, I told him that I didn't need God, he was the one that needed Him. After all, he is the one who left his kids. Besides, he had a new wife and new kids, so why in the... was he all of a sudden concerned with my eternal security--he didn't even know me!

Over time, we would talk here and there, with only months passing instead of years. During one of his visits, he took Art and me out to dinner. Again, the preaching started, it was quite embarrassing to say the least. And at the same time, there was something about what he was saying that made me desire this Jesus. However, in my stubbornness and my "I can take care of myself" attitude, I was not ready to give in. Nevertheless, I wanted him to stop talking about God, so I decided to accept his invitation to invite Jesus into my life--but only to shut him up.

He was happy, I was happy and Art didn't know what to think! Naturally, nothing changed. I left that restaurant the same person who walked in. My prayer was not sincere and I walked into many years of hardship and consequence thanks to my attitude.

From this point on, I avoided as many of my father's phone calls as possible. All he ever wanted to talk about was God--he was always hiding behind God. I finally told him that he needed to quit hiding behind God and let me see him! At that point, I learned from his perspective, that he didn't feel like he was hiding behind God--but rather avoiding his shame. He thought that by talking about God, I would just accept him. He learned otherwise.

I married Art when I was 18 years old. My father was the last to know. He was always the last to know-if he knew anything at all. He still didn't matter all that much to me.

It was during my pregnancy with our first child that strange things started happening in my heart and mind. I found myself crying a lot and feeling ashamed of the many things I had done. The day that I heard my daughter's heartbeat for the very first time, was the day that broke me. I could hear God's voice within my heart saying "Remember that day in the restaurant? You may not have meant it, but I have never forgotten it. Now is the time, Teresa. Quit running."

I think that was the first time I had ever cried a tear specifically for my father. I was 20-years old. I still wasn't ready to deal with him, but over time, God worked in me. As I began to see my own sin, I was able to understand that my father had issues of his own.

At 32-years of age I finally forgave him. It has been eight years since that day, and we have an incredible relationship. He knows what kind of books I like to read, what kind of music I like; he knows about my life. He lives far away, so we don't see each other very often, but we talk at least five times a month.

About three month's ago, something devastating happened; without a thought, I pulled out my cell phone and called my dad. He was my first phone call. After we finished our conversation, I sat in awe and wonder of the incredible grace and mercy of my Heavenly Father.

A few weeks back, I received a phone call that my son was in a dirt-bike accident. Again, without a thought, I called my dad.

He has become my friend, my prayer partner and my Bible answer-man.

Forgiveness is the key; but it can't be done without the help of God. I learned that as long as there is breath, it is never too late to build a relationship. What my dad and me concluded was that he could not make up for lost time and I should not expect him to.

In this, we found common ground and hope for an incredible adventure and he is no longer my "father" he is my daddy and it was my mom's attitude that gave me the freedom to build.


These days, Father's Day means everything to me.

(c)Teresa Ortiz